Florence

Florence saw that his face turned grey at the thought. He looked at her but didn't seem to see her for a moment. Then he blinked, as though he had to get accustomed to some bright light, and looked into her eyes.

"And that is why I sojourn here," he said.

"Alone and palely loitering..." Florence chimed in. "I hope you don't feel too alone?"

"Not with you" he said and grinned. "Time does make the ache less sharp."

"Didn't you ever try to find a new partner?"

"I wouldn't have known how to," he said. "I once tried dating - my, what a disaster! I don't think any of those dating sites could help me out... I wouldn't mind not being alone, though. I'm very glad I came here."

He didn't explain, but Florence thought he might mean her. She did hope so.

Jem came over to their table with a plate of glazed biscuits and chocolates. "It's really snowing hard now," he said. "There will be loads tomorrow. I don't want to drive you out, Flo, but you'll have to wade through."

Florence got up and went to the door. She opened it and was met by a swirl of big snowflakes. It looked beautiful enough, but it was cold and abundant. The snow lay over four inches deep already, and she decided Jem was right.

She returned to the table and told Andrew she'd be going soon. Then she finished her drink and got up.

"I'm sorry we aren't able to finish our conversation," she said. "But I think I'd better go home."

"I'll come with you if I may," Andrew said.

Florence nodded. The put on their coats and went out into the snow. It was really snowing heavily, and you could only see a few yards ahead. The flakes were heavy and whirled around them. Florence took Andrew's arm, and together they ploughed through the increasingly thick layer of snow. Andrew loved the weight of Florence on his arm. It seemed to do something to his manhood - no way Florence could find out under all those clothes, he thought. He didn't want to scare her off...

It took almost twice as long to reach Florence's home as the usual walk. Andrew accompanied Florence to the door, and Florence gave him a warm smile. "

Thank you," she said. "Goodnight!"

He kissed her cheek. He had to make a real effort not to kiss her straight on the mouth. Then he said goodnight.

She saw Andrew walk down the garden path again and disappear into the snow. His hair and the back of his coat were caked with snow. He exuded an aura of quiet strength, she thought - and all of a sudden she felt she wanted him so badly it made her fingers ache. She went in and poured herself a nightcap. Then she put a Buddy Holly CD into the CD player. Heartbeat, Rave On.... The old songs precisely echoed her mood. She played the CD twice before she turned in.

IV. Quiz Night

Florence stayed indoors on Boxing Day. The snow kept steadily falling until the early afternoon, and she was tired and shivery, and as she didn't want to miss the quiz the next day, she had decided she was not going to brave the inclement weather. Besides, her staying at home might give Andrew the time he needed to figure out whatever it was he wanted to know by reading the diary.

She'd swept the front step in the morning; Tuttle went out, notwithstanding the weather, but she came in again almost immediately. There was over a foot of snow, and the world looked wonderful. But it was no weather for a walk. Absolutely not.

She decided to keep things easy that day. she spent most of it reading, and by evening she had finished her book. She had a small savoury cheese tart for dinner, and then she sat down to that evening's film on TV, happily watching the rather silly story. She went to bed early, thinking of Andrew and wondering what, if anything, he'd found. It would be nice if he were there to hold her... It took her a moment to realise what she was thinking - and when she did she blushed a fiery red. Still - it really would be nice.

She woke up feeling excited - it was quiz night that night, and Andrew would be on the team, and perhaps he had something to tell her... It would be a long day, but the pleasurable anticipation made her get through it without difficulty. She decided to go to the George early, so she might have dinner with Andrew, if he were there... She thought he probably was.

When she ventured out, a little before six, the snow creaked under her boots. She'd dressed in a warm lambswool sweater that was soft and supple, and showed the curve of her breasts to advantage without being crude - it was actually quite stylish, and she hoped Andrew would notice. The snow on the path across the green was trodden flat, and the path was clearly visible.

Andrew was there, as she'd hoped. When she came in he came up to her to take her coat, and when he saw how she was dressed he did compliment her. It made her feel pleasurably shy.

They had dinner together. The pub was warm, and still dressed in its holiday decorations, and Florence highly enjoyed being there. They ate in companionable silence. Andrew now and then looked at Florence admiringly; it made her feel very happy. When they'd finished Florence asked if Andrew had started on the diary.

"I've read it twice," Andrew said. "Look - do you know whether you were a preterm baby?"

"I don't think so - but I'm not sure, really. I can ask aunt Martha. She will know."

"Would you, please? It may be rather crucial, I think."

"In what way," Florence wanted to know.

"I'd rather not say yet," Andrew said. "I may be barking up the wrong tree. I promise I will tell you when I'm reasonably certain. Blast, I wish I hadn't arranged to meet those friends. But I'll return on New Year's Eve. Okay?"

Florence nodded. "Yes," she said. "Of course. You do make me very curious... Aunt Martha will be back home on New Year's Eve, too. Look, what happened after the crash - if you don't mind telling me?"

Andrew shook his head. "There was a prolonged period of waiting," he said. "It took ages before the remains were identified, and then almost just as long before all the legal formalities were concluded. My father was still alive at the time; he got severe heart problems because of it. In the end they were returned to us, and we buried the remains." He kept silent for some moments. "Remains is a truly speaking term in such a case - there was very little left to bury."

He sighed. "I thought I'd grown over the shock, but talking about it still hurts a bit. And it's a strange thing to know yourself absolutely alone in the world. I have no remaining relatives left apart from one old uncle, who has long forgotten his own name... My son, Ted, was a fortnight short of his tenth birthday."

Florence saw he had tears in his eyes.

"Oh Andrew," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Andrew said. "I'll get over it."

He smiled at her. "So what time does the quiz start?"

"At eight thirty," Florence said.

"Okay. Er - would you mind going out for a stroll around the green?"

Florence shook her head.

"Alright then," Andrew said, and they got up and collected their coats. They went out into the snow. The air was clear and very cold, and the world was very light because of the snow. Andrew offered Florence his arm, and she linked her arm in his, to his great delight. he loved to feel her body so close to his. They walked in silence for some time.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Andrew said.

"Yes, it is. I wish I had the peace of mind to enjoy it," Florence said. "I haven't had any since I came across that awful diary... It really gives me the idea that I shouldn't have been there."

"I am very happy you're there indeed, if that is any help... And believe me, I'm not the only one. No one ever is too much, no one ever is superfluous -"

"But the only one who wanted me, committed suicide because of me. And I tried to be good to my mother..." Florence felt her eyes grow moist.

Andrew squeezed her arm. "I know. You've really had a hard deal - too hard a deal. I hope I may take those worries from your mind."

Florence sighed. Then she smiled at him. "I wonder if you can," she said. "But thanks for trying!"

They didn't talk any more after that but completed the round of the green in a thoughtful silence.

When they returned in the pub, Florence said, "Quiz night!"

They walked to their group's table, and Florence introduced Andrew to the others.

"So what's your special subject?" Brett asked.

"I don't think I have one," Andrew said. "Just some unconnected facts and figures..."

"Ok," Brett said. "May be helpful enough!"

The first round was sports. Florence hadn't been too exuberant in her praise of Brett; he really was an expert. One of the other teams had an expert as well, though, and there was a draw - full marks for the both of them. The language round was a bit inconclusive. All ten teams were hard at it, and none of them knew all the unusual terms that had been taken from various dictionaries, apparently - there was a medical term no one could place.

Then there was music. The first questions was about older popular music: Who was the female Louis Armstrong? The team looked at each other.

"Anybody?" Brett asked.

Andrew nodded. He took the answer sheet and wrote 'Valaida "Queen of the Trumpet" Snow.'

Brett looked at it and shook his head. "Never heard of her," he said. "Was she good?"

Andrew nodded. "She could play a mean side," he said with a grin.

The second question was quite similar: Who was dubbed the female Elvis?

Brett shoved the paper to Andrew. He entered 'Janis Martin' on the sheet.

Then the quizmaster played the Carpenters' "Yesterday Once More." When it was done he said, "Beautiful, this one, er? I want the year for it, please."

"That one's for me," Florence said. She wrote '1973' on the paper.

Andrew, who sat next to her, grinned. "You didn't tell me you were into music, too," he said.

"I am - sort of," Florence said. "Shh - next question!"

The next question was an easy one, about record sleeves - what was the original cover of the first Velvet underground cover like? Brett wrote down the answer and grinned.

Together they completed the round easily - and they were the only team to have all ten answers right.

Andrew contributed a little throughout the remainder of the quiz. Apparently he did know a lot of unconnected facts and figures, Florence thought. She looked at him again, and thought to herself how nice he was. Life seemed a lot less dull and lonely with him around...

The final round of questions was geography; the quiz master had been in a Latin-American mood, it appeared. Over half the questions were about Central America; Mayas, the beautiful quetzal, the Bay Islands and Garifunas passed the review. Here, again, Andrew helped out. When Janet looked at him questioningly, he explained that he had travelled the area extensively.

The team won conclusively - and they all cheered, and smiled at Andrew.

"Well done, old man," Bill said, and clapped him on the shoulder.

Andrew grinned, but waved the praise away. "I just contributed a little," he said. "We did it together."

Florence beamed. It felt to her that the praise given Andrew was a little for her, too. She got up and went to the bar for another drink for the two of them.

The team sat talking together for another hour. Brett asked Andrew a lot about old music, and Florence listened to his answers, wondering how much there must be about this man she didn't know, and hoping, a little woozily, she'd learn more - she'd drunk rather more wine than usual.

When they broke up she got up slowly. "This was really nice," she said.

Andrew looked at her with a little smile. "It was," he said. "Come, I'll walk you home."

Florence was glad he did. The cold night air was a little help, but she was glad to hold his arm and walk home safely.

When he'd delivered her on her doorstep Andrew wished her good night and kissed her lightly on the mouth. She smiled back at him and waved him goodbye. Then she went straight to bed, smiling goofily at the great evening she'd had.

V. Sea Change

Florence woke up with a headache at half past six. She went into the bathroom for a couple of paracetamols and then went back to bed. She lay thinking about the previous evening, about Andrew and music, and a person's various layers, and then she remembered his question. He obviously thought it was really important. She wondered what it was he might have unearthed; not knowing gave her the shivers.

She wished it was New Year's Eve, but it was only the 28th. Three days until Andrew would be back... She'd better find something to pass the time or she'd go berserk. Better get up first - she was much too busy in her mind to go back to sleep.

She had a lazy breakfast and perused the paper. There was an announcement for an auction in Ipswich in which some old necklaces would be brought under the hammer. Mmmm. Let's see - at two that afternoon. She decided to go.

She drove there that afternoon, enjoying the snowed-up landscape. The roads had been cleared, and they were clean and dry, so she could drive easily. She'd wilfully driven Andrew's remarks from her mind, and she sat listening to the radio, humming along.

The auction was nice. There were some beautiful old examples of Venetian glass beads, and there was a necklace of small red bakelite discs. She bought one of the strings of glass beads and the bakelite one, at very affordable prices, and she went home happy and satisfied.

She'd been home again for only half an hour when Janet called. If she'd like to come for dinner? She decided it would be a good idea, and she changed and walked the few yards to her neighbours.

Bill opened the door and welcomed her. Janet was a good cook, and she popped her head out of the kitchen for a moment when she heard Florence come in. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes!" she announced.

"Can I help?"

"Not on your Nelly! I'll just have to put the final touches to the salad. Bill, you go and pour Florence a drink."

Bill shepherded Florence into the living room. He asked her her tipple and poured her a glass; then he had one himself and sat down in his old, rather disreputable chair. "Yes," he said when he saw Florence look at it, as she had so often before, "I still haven't got round to having it redone... I'd have to part with it for some time, you know."

Florence smiled. She'd heard the statement before. She liked Bill very much, and she knew he'd probably never get round to it - it was likely his children would throw the thing when he had no use for it any longer.

"Here's to friendship," Bill said. "You're not seeing Andrew tonight?"

"No, he's in Cambridge, visiting friends."

"Okay. Seems a nice guy. You like him, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." She was silent for a moment, thinking of the way his nearness made her feel. "I like to know he's near..." She blushed.

Bill smiled at her. "I know the feeling," he said. "Still feel that way about Janet."

He picked up his glass and swirled the liquid slowly around. "Yes," he said. "I still do."

Florence nodded. "I know. I like watching you cross the green together..."

She picked up her glass and sipped.

Then Janet came in and announced dinner was ready, and they talked about the village, and the latest pub quiz, and Andrew, but in safer terms than in the living room. They had another drink after dinner before Florence went home.

The 29th found Florence cold and shivering. She'd run a temperature, and she stayed in bed all day. That night she dreamt a confused dream in which Andrew was somehow whisked away while she was talking to him and replaced by some sort of ghoul who said, "I'm Robert, and you are mine - come with me now!" She struggled to get his hands off her and woke up in a sweat. Then she fell asleep again, only to wake up at ten, feeling a lot better and rather hungry.

She decided to stay in that day, and she did some reading and listening. In the evening there was a nice movie on ITV, and she went to bed early.

She woke up on New Year's Eve with a sense of something important about to happen, but it took her a moment to realise what it was. Andrew would be back - oh, and so would aunt Martha. She'd call her immediately after she'd had her morning coffee, and she'd meet Andrew in the pub that night.

She could hardly wait for the time to pass, but eventually it was after ten. She dialled her aunt's number. Aunt Martha picked up the phone almost immediately. Florence grinned. She knew the phone was on a low table next to her aunt's chair, and if there was one thing she liked it was talking to people. "Hello?" came her aunt's voice.

"Hello, aunt Martha," Florence said.

"Flo! How nice. How are you, sweetie?"

"I'm fine. Er - there's something I'd like to ask you. Do you know if I was prematurely born?"

"No, you weren't. You were three weeks late. Carrie kept complaining you were too much of a burden. Why do you want to know?"

"Andrew asked me when he'd read the diary... I don't know. He seems to think there's something incongruous in my story."

"Do you know what he's thinking of?"

"Er, no. He said he might be wrong and he wanted to know this first. I don't even know if it's a bad thing or a good thing that I wasn't."

"Mmm. Don't you think he's just being important?"

"No. No, I don't - he's not like that at all."

"Okay. Well, you'd better go and tell him, Flo. If there's any outcome, please let me know!"

"Of course. I'll be meeting him tonight."

"And looking forward to it, right? Does he like you, too?"

"I hope so - he doesn't dislike me, obviously. He sometimes gives me the shivers."

"Good. Oh well, you've made me very curious."

"I'll tell you when I know. Promise. How was your stay?"

Aunt Martha embarked on a long and excited account of the previous week. Florence always enjoyed listening to her. She loved her old aunt, and she thought she had a nice voice... They said goodbye after about thirty minutes.

"And remember - do tell me, please!" aunt Martha said.

Well, she would, no doubt about that. First she had to bridge the afternoon, though. More reading? Well - She didn't feel like reading. Instead she went hiking that afternoon, through the white fields over to the next village, where she had a cup of tea at the local tea shop, before returning home just in time before dark. She wondered for a moment whether to cook her own meal but decided against it. She made some tea and played a CD - Mozart's string quartet in A minor, and when the music was over she put on her coat and went out to find Andrew in the George.

He was sitting at a different table than usual - because he'd only been there for half an hour and his usual table had been taken, he explained - and he greeted her enthusiastically. Could he offer her a meal? Well, yes, please!

Andrew got up to order, and returned with the drinks.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Fair to middling," Florence said. "Some nice days, and a day with a fever... Now I'm quite alright again!" She smiled at Andrew. "And how was Cambridge?"

It took Andrew quite some time to tell her. He apparently had visited a bunch of friends, taken a trip down memory lane by visiting his old college and generally enjoyed himself a lot. "But," he finished, "I'm really happy to be back here and see your face." He looked at her straight without smiling - and it told her he meant it.

Then their orders were called and they went and picked up their dinners. The food smelled good, and Florence suddenly felt very hungry.

"Mmmm," she said. "I can do with some food!"

"Very good! Have a nice meal!"

They ate slowly and with a good appetite. It seemed the kitchen had made a special effort, and they highly enjoyed their meal. They talked but little until they'd cleaned their plates. Then Florence sat back and plunged into the thing that had been on her mind a little all day.